


Kunimitsu's Krusaderz

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-19
Updated: 2006-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before tennis, Tezuka wanted to be a rock star. This is the rise and fall of Kunimitsu’s Krusaderz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kunimitsu's Krusaderz

  
At age 10, Tezuka wanted to be a rock star. When his family was asleep, he took out his tennis racquet, put on his headphones, and air guitared himself to exhaustion, falling asleep clutching his imagined instrument.

His parents would find him in the morning and think he loved tennis.

“Kunimitsu, we’re sending you to Seigaku,” his mother said one afternoon. “You’ll be able to play the tennis that you love so much.”

“Yes mother,” Kunimitsu said, hands tightening on the strap of his tennis bag.

That was the day he was going to ask to join the marching band.

  
&-&

  
His final year of primary school, Tezuka tried, despite his impending Seigakudom, to start a garage band. He enlisted three friends who were not going to venture to middle school with him to be his backup vocalists.

Muromachi-kun was on drums. He was going to Yamabuki next year so, even if Tezuka saw him in tennis matches, he could pretend that they’d never met.

Fuji-kun was on keyboards. He was home schooled, but would be going to either Hyoutei or Rokkaku next year, depending on which school offered him the best scholarship. Fuji also did backup vocals because he could hit the high notes and Tezuka couldn’t.

Mizuki, while not Tezuka’s friend, wouldn’t go away so they let him play bass.

Tezuka was lead guitar and lead vocals.

There was, of course, the problem that none of the band could actually play their instruments with the exception of Fuji, who could play Hot Cross Buns five different ways.

  
&-&

“Kunimitsu’s Krusaderz is a perfectly reasonable name.”

“Why is your name in there?” Muromachi asked, twirling his drumsticks. He couldn’t quite play the drums – he did play the triangle in music class, though – but he had the stick twirling down. Showmanship was everything when you wanted to be famous.

“I’m the lead singer and we’re practicing at my house,” Tezuka said. He was working on a no-nonsense tone. Fans really went for the stoic type.

“I think it’s a great name.” Fuji latched onto Tezuka’s arm and rested his cheek on Tezuka’s shoulder. Fuji was working on the shonen-ai fanservice element of the band.

“I think…”

“No one cares what you think,” Muromachi said, cutting Mizuki off. “I still think we should be The Crush’n Stomp.”

“Too violent,” Fuji insisted. “I like Tezuka-kun’s idea.” Fuji was nearly buried in Tezuka’s side.

“Majority rules. We win, two to one.” Tezuka tried to pry Fuji loose but the tensai wouldn’t budge.

“What about…”

“Yeah, what about Mizuki,” Muromachi said, pulling Mizuki to him in a brotherly hug.

“He doesn’t count,” Fuji said, eyes opening. “Isn’t that right, Mizuki-kun?”

“H-hai.”

&-&

  
“Wear them,” Tezuka said, handing Muromachi a pair of sunglasses.

“But it’s not bright in here.”

“All drummers wear sunglasses. Besides, our leader is telling you to. Wear them,” Fuji said, moving behind Tezuka and draping his arms over the other boy’s shoulders.

“S-sure. Whatever you say.” Muromachi slid the sunglasses on, gaining 50 points of drummer-style cool.

“What about me?” Mizuki asked, gliding in front of Tezuka.

Fuji pulled Tezuka to his keyboard. “I’ve been working on something. I want you to hear it, Tezuka-kun.”

Tezuka’s head was beginning to hurt. Tennis was easier than being a rock star.

“That’s just Hot Cross Buns,” Muromachi said, still tinkering with his sunglasses. He gave his drumsticks a spin, checking his image in the large mirror on the other side of the garage that reflected the band’s setup.

“It’s a remix,” Fuji insisted.

Twirl. Twirl. “Sure, sounds great, whatever.” Muromachi posed, sticks almost touching the drumhead. He was definitely the bastion of cool.

&-&

“I will not wear sequins.”

“But Tezuka-kun, they’d look nice under the stage lights.” Fuji shook the swatch of red sequined fabric. “Just a vest?”

“No. We are a rock band, not a jpop band.” Tezuka pointed to a bolt of denim. “That will do.”

“How about leather?” Muromachi offered. “Or vinyl?”

“Vinyl’s shiny,” Fuji said, considering. Fuji was in charge of costuming. He had a sister and a sewing machine. Unfortunately, Fuji’s taste in stagewear was not quite what Tezuka had hoped for.

“Tight vinyl pants are always in,” Muromachi said before dashing off to the vinyl fabrics. “I think they’re on sale, too!”

“Sale?” Tezuka adjusted his glasses. “Vinyl, then.’

&-&

“Beep beep baby is not a legitimate lyric,” Tezuka told Muromachi who, in the past week, had yet to remove his sunglasses.

“It’s a great lyric. Rancid Oyster used Ding Dong Daddykins in their song and it was a hit.”

“You listen to Rancid Oyster?” Fuji wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“They’re great! Have you _heard_ Skulltrip to a Megaphone?”

“Skulltrip to a Megaphone?” Tezuka took out his dictionary, sure that the lyric made no sense.

“Sounds cool, doesn’t it.” Muromachi waggled his eyebrows and twirled his drumsticks.

“Why don’t we…”

“Mizuki, what did we tell you about speaking out of turn?” Fuji warned, moving to stand next to Tezuka. “Ne Tezuka-kun, how about the song I wrote?”

“Fuji, it was a love ballad.”

“I thought it was kinda good,” Muromachi said, deadpan.

“See, Muromachi-kun approves!” Fuji squeezed Tezuka’s arm. “Let’s do Rabu Rabu Rumba!”

&-&

The Kunimitsu Krusaderz’ first gig was in Tezuka’s garage before an assemblage that included Fuji’s little brother, Mizuki’s cousin, Muromachi’s little sister, and Tezuka’s grandfather.

“Hi,” Tezuka said into the microphone that didn’t work. “I’m Kunimitsu and these are my Krusaderz.”

“Krusading into your heart,” Fuji whispered. They rehearsed the intro with and without the echo. Fuji decided the echo worked best and no one was brave enough to disagree except Tezuka, who really didn’t care so long as he spoke first.

“We’re going to play our hit, Rabu Rabu Rumba.”

Muromachi cleared his throat. “One, two, three, four…IYA!!”

Tezuka played the only rock chord he knew, which was stolen from Nine Inch Nails. It didn’t matter, though, because Fuji was playing his Ultra Rabu Remix of Hot Cross Buns in the background, drowning out Tezuka’s guitar. Mizuki’s guitar was not plugged into the amp. Muromachi hit his bass drum and played the tom-tom, occasionally striking the triangle on a stand next to him. The snare drums were ignored until his drum solo.

At the end of the song, everyone clapped, including the band, who had to clap first so the crowd knew they were done.

“That was wonderful, Kunimitsu,” Tezuka’s grandfather said, patting him on the head. “Don’t forget that you have tennis lessons with your instructor this afternoon.”

&-&

Mizuki was tired of being ignored by his bandmates. He had good ideas and they never listened to them, just went along with whatever Tezuka said or Fuji suggested. It was ridiculous.

“Listen!” Mizuki yelled, standing atop Tezuka’s amp. “I’ve decided to go solo!”

“That’s nice. Good luck.” Fuji waved.

“Proceed carefully.” Tezuka said, tuning his guitar, though not with much success.

“Bye!” Muromachi twirled a drumstick in salute.

“I’m really going!” Mizuki said, walking slowly out of the garage.

“Be sure to close the garage door when you leave. It’s getting chilly out.” Tezuka looked up from his tuning to give Mizuki a final nod.

“I’m not returning the guitar!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Fuji said, smiling from behind Tezuka. “It never actually worked. We found it in the dumpster. Bye!”

Mizuki stormed out, bent on revenge.

&-&

  
“Who’re you dane?” Yanagisawa opened his door and stared at the kid with the greasy, curly hair.

“My name is Mizuki Hajime and I’ve been searching for you.” Mizuki opened his arms wide, his green and tangerine shirt billowing.

“Have you da ne?”

“I understand you’re an accomplished musician. I wish to form a band, a rival establishment to Kunimitsu's Krusaderz. Are you interested?”

Yanagisawa stood in thought for a moment, then cracked into a large grin. “I’ll get my flute da ne!”

“Flute?” Mizuki asked, fixing his hair.

“Yeah, flute. I won the Kantou Symphonic Championship, Junior Division last year dane.” Yanagisawa ran into his house and returned with a shiny silver flute. “This is Patrice da ne.”

&-&

Lunch was Tezuka’s favorite time of the school day. At lunch, he could read his book, have a decent meal, and the din from the students around him drowned out Fuji’s continual chatter. Fuji wasn't even a student at the school, but he insisted on stopping by for lunch "to make sure Tezuka was being well fed."

“Ne, Tezuka, have a look at this.” Fuji pointed to a poster on the cafeteria wall. “Apparently Mizuki was serious. How cute.”

Tezuka examined the poster for Mizuki’s Maidens and suppressed laughter. Mizuki’s two man band was a visual kei band decked out in bright red sequins.

“I suppose you were right about the sequins, Tezuka-kun. They look silly.”

&-&

Fuji stood in gray sweatpants and lavender headband, hands on hips. “Move your hips more, Tezuka. Now, one, two, three kick!” Muromachi was having a fine time with the choreography for the upcoming battle of the bands, but Tezuka was as limber as a lacquered fish. “Hips, Tezuka! Hips!” Fuji demonstrated.

“The stoic one doesn’t need hips,” Tezuka insisted. “You two are backup, you dance.”

“I’m playing drums, so I can’t.” Muromachi sounded genuinely upset.

“I’ll be dancing behind the keyboard, but I can’t do it alone, Tezuka.” After everything Fuji did for the band, you’d think that Tezuka could just help him on this one point, but no. “You’re such an ass!” Fuji sighed, tossing his headband off and stomping over to his keyboard.

“Fuji, are you crying?”

“No!” Fuji sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll dance, just don’t cry.” Tezuka tried out the move with a little more hip.

Fuji turned, eyes bright and clear. “Excellent Tezuka! Now let’s move on to the flamingo kicks!”

&-&

  
At some point, Tezuka’s ultra cool rock band metamorphosed into a not so cool pop boy band.

Yuuta was scampering about with a tambourine because Fuji had to baby-sit.

Muromachi was sunburnt because he and some kid named Sengoku went to the beach and fell asleep in the sun.

The battle was tomorrow and all they had on their set list was Rabu Rabu Rumba and Death Master Stomp Down, which featured a drum solo and very little else.

“We could do the other song I wrote, Tezuka.” Fuji took Yuuta’s tambourine and dodged a kick to the shins.

“Aniki! Give it back!” Yuuta snatched the tambourine back and moved to stand with Muromachi, who thought tambourines were cool.

“That song is embarrassing, Fuji.”

“But it’s for the battle, and it has our band’s name in it.”

Tezuka relented because he had no better ideas. “Fine. We’ll play,” he paused, unable to believe he had to say this ridiculous name, “Hot Boys in Shortpants.”

  
&-&

  
On the day of the battle, Tezuka invited his mother. She brought sandwiches and strawberry milks to the park where Kunimitsu’s Krusaderz and Mizuki’s Maidens were to fight.

The sound check scared away most of the children and Mizuki’s Victorian dress scared away the remainder. Yanagisawa was in a pink frock. There was a frilly lace ribbon trailing off the end of Patrice.

“Kunimitsu, it’s lovely that you’ve got friends, but I’m not sure these are the right friends for you,” Tezuka’s mother said, trying to tame his hair after he’d expertly teased it out and frosted the tips silver with Sharpie.

“I’m fine, mom.” Tezuka took up his guitar and joined the Krusaderz. His thighs chafed from the vinyl hotpants, another of Fuji’s wardrobe decisions.

“Hi, we’re Kunimitsu’s Krusaderz,” Tezuka said into the Karaoke mic he borrowed from his grandfather.

“Krusading into your heart.” Tezuka didn’t know where Fuji found his microphone, but it had reverb and echo capabilities.

“We’re Mizuki’s Maidens!” Mizuki screamed, jumping off his homemade amp and onto the grass, only slipping a little.

Yuuta clapped because clowns were funny.

&-&

“We’re hot boys in shortpants,” Tezuka sang.

“Shortpants!”

“Hotpants!”

It was embarrassing, but the audience of five or so relatives and friends were clapping and seemed to be enjoying the most humiliating moment of Tezuka’s life. Meanwhile, Mizuki and Yanagisawa were performing for a tambourine-wielding Yuuta.

“Your love is like a battle scar,” Mizuki sang, his belled sleeves flowing freely. “I want to drown myself and become a giraffe.”

Patrice whistled clearly. “Mizuki-kun, you’re off tempo again!”

“Shortpants!”

“Hotpants!”

Mizuki’s sleeve hit Yanagisawa in the face and he dropped Patrice. “Patrice, my love!” Yanagisawa dove, catching the flute before it flew into a combustibles bin.

“Hot boys in shortpants!” Tezuka really wished the song had more in the way of lyrics.

“Shortpants!”

Muromachi ended the song with a drum solo while Yuuta stood above a fallen Yanagisawa, offering him a hand up and a slap of the tambourine.

&-&

It was a difficult decision, but one only Tezuka could make.

“I’m going to play tennis at Seigaku,” he told the band. “I won’t be able to devote myself to the music.”

Muromachi cried and hugged his snare, which he’d just learned to play.

“I understand,” Fuji said, eyes watering.

“It’s been a wonderful experience, and we’ve all learned much.” A warm feeling swelled and Tezuka was tempted to hug his bandmates. He would have, had he believed Fuji would let go.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Muromachi said, tucking his drumsticks in his backpack. “See ya on the tennis courts.” Muromachi waved and, face turned to the ground and sunglasses still in place, trudged out of Tezuka’s garage.

“At least we’ll be able to play tennis together next year, ne Tezuka?”

Tezuka froze. “I thought you were going to Hyoutei or Rokkaku.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t let you be lonely in a new school, could I? See you at orientation!” Fuji left, humming Rabu Rabu Rumba, lots of hips.


End file.
